"Hmm..." Twain tapped his nose. "You know, when the opponents scored the second goal, it didn't matter how we played in the end; the Forest team would be considered to have lost. You were injured, and George was sent off by a red card. In the second round, the Forest team will be down two main players. I don't have high hopes for the away game."

The Romani smiled. "Chief, when did you become so uncertain?"

"When we lost you and George."

"Me? I can't be that important, can I? Even if I can't play, there's still the Australian beast, the giant machine. And that Danish kid who always likes to show off. We have a strong forward."

"They are them and you're you. No one can be replaced by any others. The substitute can relieve your position, but they can't replace you. Without you, we're going to have a harder time playing for the rest of the season. But I think the team will persist till you're back. I didn't ask them to do that. It's what they want."

Eastwood did not speak. He thought about what would happen if he did return. Playing with an injured leg was like having a bomb waiting to explode at any time. He could become a burden to the team at the most critical moment; just like in this UEFA Europa League game.

"Are you worried about becoming a liability to the team?" It was as if Twain could read Eastwood's mind. He questioned the Romani, looking straight into his eyes. "Where's the Eastwood that I know? The one who's optimistic and cheerful, always speaking the fastest speed and the loudest? The popular one who likes to joke and give his teammates nicknames? Every time I see you riding a horse in the morning, I think of our first meeting and I laugh. You're the most interesting person I've ever met, Freddy. I don't think I'll ever meet someone like you again. You think your right knee can't hold on anymore? But when you became a member of the Forest team, did those doubts crush you? When you were at the Stadium of Light making your debut on behalf of the Forest team in the tournament, did those Sunderland fans' abuse scare you? Those people who thought you weren't worthy of being a Forest footballer, that you had no right to stand on the field wearing the red Forest jersey, ridiculed you for being an amateur player and thought you would never be successful… and what did they get in return? A loud and clear slap on the face! You never doubted yourself. You always believed that you could play professional football ever since you played in an amateur team two years ago. Why are you cowering now?"

Eastwood tightened his jaw. The apple in his hand changed shape and the juice seeped out of his fingers.

"Do you believe in fate, Freddy? Sabina often uses cards to tell people's fortune. You also know a thing or two. Do you ever believe it? What do you think fate is? ...It seems to me that fate isn't a net that sets a path for you to walk on. Fate is a network of crossroads, and you're always faced with a variety of choices." Twain thought about Tang En, how he inexplicably transmigrated into this world and time period. Perhaps that could also be considered fate. If he had abandoned himself to despair at that time, indulged in the British pub culture, and went to work with a muddle-through attitude and no desire to do well, what would have become of him? Where would he be, what would he do, who would he know? He had no idea, but Twain firmly believed that if he had done that, he would never have been better off than he was now.

"If you choose A, you will give up B, C, and D. If you choose B, you will give up A, C, and D... Your choice will be your fate. I choose to be a legendary manager, and I will continue to try my best. No matter how many crossroads I face, I will only choose the direction that I can take to achieve my goal. Maybe it's left, maybe it's right. But no matter which direction, I will never choose to stand still. Because I don't know if I'll have the courage to continue on if I stop to take a break. And now, Freddy!" Twain suddenly raised his voice, "You have come to a crossroads just like that. What will you choose? To continue to go forward, or stop here and now? Are you willing to accept it? To stop? Are you physically and emotionally exhausted?"

With a pop, Freddy Eastwood crushed the apple to pieces in his hand, scattering them across the bedding.

"I... I'm not willing, chief. When I see healthy people, I can't accept it. If... if you can give me a pair of healthy knees, I can score more goals. I think I want to be a legendary striker… I want to help you, chief."

Always optimistic and cheerful, his laughter always heard before his face was seen, the Romani now buried his head in the blanket and wept. This father, soon to welcome his second baby, cried like a child.

Watching him cry, Twain smiled. He put his hand on Eastwood's head and gently rubbed his hair.

"We can do it. I'll be the legendary manager, and you be a legendary striker. It's going to be okay. Your knee will be just as healthy and active as before in a few months. Don't worry; there's nothing to worry about. You've done a lot of things that people with a pair of healthy knees can't do. Okay, don't cry. Now is not 'time to say goodbye.'"

Eastwood nodded his head and gradually stopped crying.

When it was time for Twain to say goodbye, he said to Eastwood, "Relax and work with the treatment and rehabilitation. The team is waiting for you to come back, as am I."

※※※

Having said goodbye to Eastwood, Twain found Constantine, hoping he would take him to meet the chief surgeon of the operation so that he could feel reassured.

Upon hearing his request, Constantine's expression looked a little odd. He told Twain that the surgeon was a diehard Notts County fan and his family had been Notts County fans for several generations. He was worried that it would be awkward when they met.

"I think it's okay... I'm meeting him in my personal capacity, not as a manager of the Forest team."

Constantine nodded his head in assent, seeing Twain's insistence.

The surgeon in charge of Freddy Eastwood's meniscus removal surgery was Stephen Albert, a bald, middle-aged man with golden-rimmed glasses and a somber expression. He looked rather difficult to deal with.

Twain tactfully explained his purpose for coming to Albert. The other man looked serious and did not reveal a warm smile.

"I think Professor Constantine has explained some things about me to you..." When he said this, he gave Constantine a glance. However, Constantine looked out of the window and pretended not to have noticed.

"Yes, I'm a Notts County fan. Notts County and Nottingham Forest are arch rivals. But Mr. Twain, there's one thing I want you to understand; I'm a doctor before I'm a Notts County fan. It's my job to save lives. My work at the operating table has nothing to do with whether I support Notts County or Nottingham Forest."

Twain smiled. "Thank you, Dr. Albert. Professor Constantine says you're a respected physician, and I'm sure he's right."

Twain had made this up. Constantine certainly would not make such a sappy remark.

Unsurprisingly, when Albert heard Twain say that, he turned to the slightly uncomfortable looking Constantine who stood on the side and smiled. "Constantine, that old chap, would never say such nice things about me. That said, I would still like to thank you for your compliment, Mr. Twain. I also admire your devotion to your players."

After the lie had been laid bare, Twain did not feel embarrassed and gave a chuckle. He asked some questions relating to Eastwood's surgery and then excused himself.

※※※

After he thanked Constantine for his help and said goodbye, Twain left the Royal Hospital of Nottingham University. Eastwood had regained his fighting spirit and confidence, so Twain was in a good mood. Though he was fated to lose the Romani for five months, it was better than losing him forever.

So Twain was not in a hurry to go back. He decided to take a walk.

At that time, it was not crowded near the hospital entrance. The hospital was not in the downtown area. It was a very quiet road and the traffic flow was not busy. There were few pedestrians on the sidewalk.

There was a person walking towards him, holding a bouquet of flowers. Twain thought the person looked very familiar, and the other man saw him too.

After he saw Twain, that man seemed to a little flustered. He hesitated for a moment and turned to go.

"George!" Twain called out.

Wood broke into a run as if he was afraid to see Twain here.

"Stop there, George! If you run again, I'll send you to the reserves team to calm down!" yelled Twain.

It worked. The person ahead stopped running and stood on the spot. He looked somewhat awkwardly at Twain walking towards him. Twain smiled happily. "George, are you visiting someone? I just happen to know the exact ward he's staying at." He pointed to the flowers in George Wood's hands.